


Therein Lies the Problem

by moonmagician



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romance, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmagician/pseuds/moonmagician
Summary: Thomas has been the "smartest guy in the room" since he was a kid -- and no one ever contested that. Despite having a broken family and a wild younger sister, he made it into university with the sweat off his own brow, took it upon himself to start a quiz team at school, and proceeded to absolutely DOMINATE other collegiate teams everywhere they went......at least, until a snarky blonde Brit named Newt decided to waltz onto Thomas's turf, get up in his face, and then try to steal his crown. From the moment Newt first walked into the halls of Labyrinthe, he and Thomas could do nothing but argue -- but what's hiding beneath the surface of all that anger?NOTES: I have given all the characters last names, based on what their real names used to be or based on fan theories I've found online. I am aware that these are not canon -- but nothing about this story really is, considering they're on college quiz teams. Please watch for strong language and potential smut in future chapters.
Relationships: Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Therein Lies the Problem

Thomas Stephens was the undisputed king of Labyrinthe College. Everyone knew that, and everyone respected it; especially because Thomas wasn’t the type to lord it over his subjects and use his social status as an excuse to treat people like dirt. He was perfectly polite to everyone he met, made it his business to stay above gossip even as he floated between friend groups with mind-boggling ease, somehow seemed to be _expanding_ these friend groups every week, worked two jobs, had already paid off his entire college tuition and was preparing to pay for his sister’s, and had perfect grades to boot. Sure, he had no clue how to make jokes, got a bit too heated during debates in class, and was an incredibly stiff dancer at parties -- but to the outside world, Thomas had carefully crafted an image that glossed over any flaws. And he was happy that way; he was well-liked, well-respected, and comfortable where he was. He wasn’t interested in fighting anyone for power, and no one was interested in challenging him for the throne.

At least, no one until _he_ came along.

It was the first day of junior year, and Thomas was excited as ever to go back to school; the apartment he shared with Alby, Teresa, and his sister Brenda was great, and they’d had plenty of wild nights over the summer holidays, but he didn’t _learn_ anything while he was out partying.

That was another thing that mystified people about Thomas -- all college students wanted to advance themselves in their fields of choice, but most of them still very clearly preferred going out and getting shitfaced to staying in and reading about existentialism in literature. Thomas hated parties, despite being so popular; he couldn’t hear himself think, and alcohol scared the living shit out of him. So he’d played designated driver for his three closest companions all summer, and had enjoyed a few nights on the dance floor, but he was ready to get back to where he belonged.

As he hitched his armful of new textbooks higher up in one arm, Thomas breathed in the scent of the linoleum halls and exhaled with a grin, doing his best to respond to the chorus of hello’s and how-was-your-summer’s that rose up everywhere he went.

His sister popped up beside him out of nowhere, backpack straps drawn tight around both shoulders and her whole body practically vibrating with excitement. “Teresa wasn’t kidding when she said you were a celebrity around here.”

Thomas grinned and reached down with his free hand to fondly ruffle Brenda’s hair. “Did she say that?”

“You don’t wanna hear all the things she’s said about you, Thomas,” she said, playfully slapping his hand away. “And paws off, I curled my hair today!”

“Who were you trying to look good for?” Thomas teased. “Alby’s a senior, he won’t have any classes with you.”

Brenda blushed furiously. “I _wasn’t_ \-- I mean -- I don’t -- that’s not--”

“Take your time,” Thomas said with a grin.

“I was _not_ looking good for Alby today, I was looking good for _myself_ ,” Brenda finally said petulantly.

“Right. And you wore the dress I got you last year which you told me you were going to return because it was three sizes too small just for _yourself_ , huh?”

“Myself and all the other absolute _catches_ I see wandering these halls,” Brenda added, marveling at the mass of students milling back and forth. “Y’know, this is actually the perfect time to get _over_ Alby!”

“What, get laid by some random freshman in your econ class?”

“Duh! The best way to get over a boy is to get under another one, right?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, but he was grinning despite himself. “Never change, Brenda.”

“Did I hear something about getting underneath boys?” Teresa popped up on Thomas’s other side and started talking to Brenda across him -- effectively sandwiching him between two incredibly thirsty college girls until he could barely breathe. “Because honestly, I nearly failed anthropology last year and Mr. White’s private tutoring sessions are looking better by the day--”

“You both are gross and I would really appreciate it if you would please stop talking about having s -- doing _that_ with our anthropology teacher while I am RIGHT HERE,” Thomas grumbled.

“Aw, come on, lighten up! It’s our first day back, and you’re the weirdo who actually _likes_ being at school!” Teresa elbowed Thomas in the side, and he couldn’t help but smile.

Teresa and Thomas had been dating since senior year of high school, when they found out they were both planning to attend Labyrinthe. They made sense together; for all her overtly sexual jokes that she made with Brenda, Teresa never pushed Thomas to do anything he wasn’t ready for, and they’d been friends since childhood -- it was only a matter of time before they got together. In fact, Thomas distinctly remembered when they’d first made it official, walking into school hand in hand, and had to witness several of his friends indiscreetly trade each other betting money.

She was a beautiful, kind, sweet girlfriend, great to talk to, the perfect mixture of fun and focused during study sessions, and she had helped Thomas learn how to let loose over the course of their nearly four years together. Never mind that he didn’t feel sparks on his skin or glitter in his veins whenever their eyes met, like in romance books; she was the only girlfriend he’d ever had, and he loved her very much. And he could just tell by the way she looked at him that she loved him too.

He had a lovely girlfriend, his sister was going to fit right in at school, and he was about to go to 4th year Econ -- a class he knew he shared with his best friend, Alby. Life was good.

Upon parting ways with his two female companions and making Teresa promise that she’d help Brenda find her classes instead of getting sidetracked with someone attractive in the middle of the hall, Thomas bounced into his Econ classroom and was met by a chorus of greetings from all the people he knew. He exchanged fist bumps, handshakes, high fives, and one-armed hugs all down the rows of seats, taking care to say hello to everybody -- and if you were an outsider looking in on the scene, the jovial yet nurturing way he interacted with all the students would’ve convinced you that _he_ was the teacher.

After making the rounds with everyone, Thomas caught sight of a familiar dark, grinning face in the back corner where he normally liked to sit. Taking the stairs two at a time, he tossed his backpack onto his self-claimed desk and met Alby in a bro hug, followed by a complicated bro handshake that ended with a fist bump and a clap on the back.

“Is it weird to say I missed you, considering that we literally left the house together this morning?” Thomas asked.

Alby snorted. “A little. How’s it feel being the only junior in senior Econ?”

“Like I’m ready to kick your ass,” Thomas said, shooting Alby a crooked grin. “Is Bernstein still our prof, or did he get fired for good after that scandal with his TA last year?”

Wrinkling his nose, Alby glanced at the empty teacher’s desk up front. “He’s still here, but I think he’s on probation -- and he’s being kept _far away_ from the student body so he doesn’t creep on anybody else.”

“Oh, thank God, I remember the way he always leered at me when he handed back my papers last year,” a silvery voice complained in Thomas’s periphery. “Are these seats taken?”

He shook his head, grinning as he caught sight of the familiar face the voice belonged to. Lizzy Song and her twin brother, Carson, were good friends of Thomas’s who he’d met in Econ as a sophomore, and he wasted no time standing up to pull each of them into separate hugs before they sat down in front of him and Alby.

Thomas was about to ask the twins if they had any speculations about who their new professor was going to be, but a moment later his question was half-answered when a slightly older man in dress slacks and a casual button-down strode into the room, dropping a briefcase in the teacher’s chair and pulling a small pair of reading glasses from his pocket. He had salt-and-pepper hair, green eyes, and a kind but slightly reserved demeanor, and when he clapped his hands to get the class’s attention, they all fell silent at once.

“Hello, class, and welcome to 4th year Econ,” he said, his voice a comforting tenor that almost immediately relaxed Thomas. “My name is Galileo Gallagher -- stupid name, I know -- but you can call me Gally, or Professor G.”

“Is Gally the nickname for your first name, or last name?” Alby piped up, earning a chorus of snickers from the class and an elbow in the ribs from Thomas.

Gally seemed unfazed, however, and his mouth quirked up into a half-smile. “Either one -- but for the love of God, please don’t call me Gally Gally.”

“You got it, G-man.” Alby leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk, chuckles still rising in the air around him.

Thomas almost admired Alby in how comfortable he was with teasing, joking, and talking to strangers. Thomas wished he could be more like that; he could see a great deal of intelligence behind his new professor’s eyes, but he knew for a fact that he’d be too nervous to introduce himself.

“Alright, now that _my_ embarrassment’s out of the way, it’s time for yours!” Gally said. “Today, I’ll be taking attendance by way of asking each of you to stand up, tell me your full name, a nickname if you go by one, and give me an interesting fun fact about yourself -- and when I say interesting, I do mean _interesting,_ not that your favorite color is green or that you had cereal for dinner again last night. If any of you kids are boring, I will not hesitate to request a class transfer.”

The class giggled even harder. Upperclassmen knew better than anyone that the first few days of with a new professor would set the tone for the entire year, and it was clear that Gally’s would be one of the more entertaining classes for them.

“Young man in the back, there!” Gally called up towards Thomas and Alby. “Since you were so eager to put me on the spot a minute ago, it’s my turn to get _you_ into the hot seat. Hit us with your best fun fact.”

Rather than shrinking into his shoes, Alby stood up and confidently said, “Name’s Albert Ernshaw, but everybody around here calls me Alby. My fun fact is that I was named after Albert Einstein, because even while I was inside the womb, my mom could tell that I was a genius.”

Thomas had to fight to keep from sliding out of his chair with laughter.

“Very interesting, thank you, Mr. Ernshaw. Feel free to take a seat.” Gally pretended for a moment to be irritated at Alby’s antics, but he was grinning along with the boy. “You there, right in front of him -- why don’t you go next?”

Lizzy stood up, tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder. “Hi, Mr. G! My name is Elizabeth Song, I go by Lizzy, and I can recite two hundred and thirty-four digits of pi.”

Alby snickered. “You sure you’re a natural blonde?”

“Careful back there, Mr. Ernshaw, you can only be so funny before it becomes making fun of stereotypes,” Gally warned, a teasing lilt in his tone. “And Miss Song, that is very impressive. I only knew about a hundred and fifty digits myself, back in the day. I’d ask you to recite it right now, but we’ve only got so much time, so...go ahead and sit down now.”

On it went, with each student standing up, delivering their name, and racking their brains to remember why they were interesting human beings. Some of them had _genuinely_ cool facts -- Rachael Smith had spent her summer volunteering at a marine biology center, and Jordan Keyes had just gotten an internship position for an aerospace engineering program. Others, like Alby, made wisecracks about their height, families, or even _dick size,_ much to Thomas’s horror. And still others found themselves a little bit shy, and unable to come up with more than their ability to cook soup, or the fact that they knew how to play piano. But despite his earlier threat to transfer boring students out of his class, Gally was extremely forgiving, complimenting students on even the most boring of facts that they shared.

At long last, it was Thomas’s turn, and he felt a flare of irritation when his knees knocked together as he stood up. He knew he was smart, and would end up impressing this professor anyway with the work he did; so why was he so nervous to introduce himself to a bunch of people he already knew?

He had barely opened his mouth to speak when the door slammed open, and a mop of fair curls came sauntering in like he was right on time, when class had been in session for nearly thirty minutes already.

“Unless your name is Thomas Stephens, which I don’t think it is, then you must be my TA,” Gally said. “Nice of you to make an appearance.”

His voice was still light and playful, but there was a slight edge to it now that sent a ripple of realization through the class that despite his lovely demeanor, the G-man was not one to be crossed -- and tardiness would _not_ be acceptable in this class.

But Thomas’s mind was far away from a fear of tardiness, because he knew he was never tardy. He was completely transfixed by this newcomer -- he knew just about everyone at Labyrinthe, if not by name then at least by face, and this boy was completely foreign. He was skinny, barely over five foot six, had a jawline that looked like it could cut stone, and clearly hadn’t bothered to dress up for his first day of class. The expression on his face was akin to that of someone who’d just bitten into a lemon as he let his eyes skate over the room, barely making eye contact with Thomas once -- but Thomas, meanwhile, couldn’t stop staring.

“You’re...” Gally gave his clipboard a cursory once-over. “Isaac Samuels?”

The blonde boy rolled his eyes. “I go by Newt.”

Oh, a transfer. His voice was slightly rough, a bit higher-pitched than Thomas had anticipated, and it was slightly obscured by a thick, gorgeous British accent.

It reminded him of salted caramel. He was vaguely aware of the fact that until this exact moment, he had never _liked_ salted caramel, but that didn’t seem to matter much in the moment.

“Newt?” Gally repeated quizzically. “Is it because you’re a slimy little swamp creature?”

“Very fucking funny, Professor--”

“Please mind your language, Mr. Samuels--”

“--it’s Newt because I was named after Isaac Newton.”

“Oh, another student with a famous-name backstory,” Gally remarked, regarding Newt coolly. “In that case, I think you’ll get along quite well with Mr. Ernshaw, up there in the back. He was named after Albert Einstein. There’s an open seat beside him and his friend, go take it. I’ll come give you some work to do once everyone else is squared away.”

Newt grunted in assent, jamming his hands into the pockets of the oversized denim jacket he wore as he stomped up the steps without making eye contact with anyone. When he’d settled into the loneliest seat at the back of the room, just behind Thomas and Alby, he leaned forward.

“Right, which one of you fucks is Mister Ern-whatever? I need to know which one to avoid. Although chances are I won’t be talking to either of you anyway.”

“Well, who shoved a giant stick up your ass this morning?” Alby said with a laugh.

“I’m guessing that means you’re the guy who’s named after Albert Einstein,” Newt drawled. “God, I’d kill myself if my name was Albert.”

Alby’s face hardened. “Listen, I don’t know what the hell your problem is--”

“And if you quit talking to me, you won’t have to.”

“ _You’re_ the one who started talking to _us!_ ”

“Correction, I started talking to _you._ It seems like the little girl beside you doesn’t know how to speak or move.” Newt reached forward to prod Thomas’s shoulder with a slim finger, and the contact felt like he was being electrocuted.

“Alright, that’s enough of that back there, gentlemen,” Gally sighed. “Mr. Samuels, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass the rest of my students, and Alby, I believe your friend is the last person left to introduce himself. You must be...Thomas?”

Swallowing hard and trying not to let on how very aware he was of Newt’s condescending presence just behind him, Thomas stood up and nodded. “Yes, sir. Um, I mean, Professor G. That’s me. Thomas Stephens.”

“You’re something of a golden boy at this school, from what I hear,” Gally said teasingly.

The rest of the class murmured their assent, Thomas blushed, and Newt snorted.

“I -- I suppose so, Professor. I just...like to stay on top of my classes, and be polite to everyone, that’s all.”

Thomas could almost _hear_ Newt rolling his eyes. “Kiss-ass.”

“Well, that’s the kind of energy I like to see in my class, but I hope we aren’t making you uncomfortable. Why so stiff this morning, Mr. Stephens?”

“Ah...” Thomas swallowed again, the muffled snickers coming from behind stabbing him like daggers. “Just...woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Gally’s smile was encouraging, as though he could sense Thomas’s nervousness. “Here’s hoping you’ll get your groove back in the next couple of classes -- but for now, just know that this is a safe space, and nobody’s going to be making fun of you if you trip over your words a little bit.”

“T-thank you, Professor.”

“No problem, Mr. Stephens. Do you have a fun fact about yourself you’d like to share with us?”

Thomas racked his brains. _Did_ he have a fun fact? It would be bragging to talk about his 4.0 GPA, wouldn’t it? And he wasn’t named after anybody famous, because Thomas was an incredibly common name and he didn’t particularly like Thomas Edison much anyway. And he had no...conquests to joke about -- he wasn’t funny, anyway. What could he say?

“Thomas is captain of Labyrinthe’s quiz team,” Carson piped up.

_A lifeline. A sweet, sweet lifeline._

Thomas made a mental note to buy Carson a crate of beer after school that day. “Y-yeah! I am, actually. Captain of Les Quizérables.”

A snort from behind him. A softly whispered, “The fuck kind of a name is that?”

Thomas fought his hardest to ignore it.

“That’s a very creative name,” Gally said with a chuckle. “Did you come up with it?”

Thomas felt a flicker of pride. “Yeah, I did. We’re the best intercollegiate quiz team on the East Coast right now, and we’ve won the New England Sectional quiz tournament for two years in a row.”

“You’re a junior, aren’t you?”

“That’s right, Professor.”

“I assume you’re hoping this will be your third year winning the sectional?”

“Actually, we’re gunning to make it to the championships this year--”

“All right, all right, so the guy knows a little bit of fuckin’ trivia, is it that big of a deal?” Newt snapped, causing Thomas to jump.

“I’ll remind you again to please refrain from using that kind of language when you’re in my classroom, Mr. Samuels,” Gally said, his eyes meeting Newt’s and holding his gaze until the blonde boy looked away. “Forgive me for carrying the conversation so long, however -- I was something of a trivia head myself when I was in college, so I’ve got a soft spot for the whole quiz team scene.”

“Whatever,” Newt grumbled. “Can you get on with class so I can stop twiddling my thumbs?”

Gally took the high road and chose not to respond to Newt’s jab, instead clapping his hands together and turning to the whiteboard. “Alright, everybody! Since you’re almost all seniors and have been studying Econ for three years prior to this, I’m not going to waste time talking you through the syllabus or the basics, as I’m sure it’s stuff you already know. And if you’ve forgotten it over the summer, don’t worry! It’ll come back as soon as you get out your textbooks and turn to page 24...”

The rest of class passed uneventfully; after several minutes of lecturing and talking through the week’s homework, Gally left the class to their own devices to start work on an introductory paper that was due that Friday, and mercifully summoned Newt down to his desk, away from Thomas.

“The fuck is that kid’s problem?” Alby muttered under his breath as soon as Newt was out of earshot.

“Shut up, he’ll hear you,” Thomas hissed back. “And besides, it’s not our business what his problem is. If we ignore him, he’ll leave us alone.”

“Thomas, you’re too fucking nice for your own good sometimes, you know that?” Alby whispered. “If you ignore him, he _might_ leave us alone, or he _might_ try to jump you in an alleyway and take your wallet and keys and rob our apartment.”

“Alby!” Thomas rapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. “Leave it alone. He’s not going to _jump_ me, and he’s _definitely_ not going to rob the apartment. He wouldn’t dare even set foot near the place if you and Brenda were home anyway.”

“He looks like the type to carry a pocketknife, though, doesn’t he?”

“I can hear you, y’know,” Newt muttered, causing both the other boys to jump -- they hadn’t noticed him coming back up the stairs. “Not surprised that Albert Einstein’s shit-talking me, but I would’ve thought you’d be nice enough to save it for after class, Tommy.”

Thomas nearly choked on his own tongue. “T-Tommy?”

Newt smirked. “Did I stutter?”

Teresa called him that sometimes, Thomas thought to himself. She usually called him Tom, but it was Thomas when he was in trouble and Tommy when she was teasing him. It always made him uncomfortable, but when Newt said it, he felt something else -- a flicker of fire in his cheeks and stomach. Irritation, most likely. Who was this boy to waltz in here, swear at his professor, and then try to use trashy nicknames with Thomas when they’d never even spoken?

“I -- I wasn’t shit-talking you,” was what came out of Thomas’s mouth.

Newt quirked an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, Tommy.” He continued on his journey past them, reaching for a stack of books on the shelf behind his desk and heaving them into his arms before turning around to go back down the steps. “Oh, and for the record...”

He winked at them both. “I carry _two_ pocket-knives on me.”


End file.
